


Mile High

by cygnaut



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Airplane Sex, Chess Metaphors, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1692680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cygnaut/pseuds/cygnaut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only so much time you can spend sublimating your emotions into chess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mile High

**Author's Note:**

> My own attempt at Charles and Erik's offscreen activities on the plane.

Charles tries to focus on the chessmen in front of him, pretending to be absorbed in the abstract strategy of the game when in reality he's far too distracted by the man sitting across from him. Charles had forgotten what it was like, the intensity of Erik's presence. The way Erik could completely dominate his attention, whether Charles wanted him to or not. Charles keeps his head down, watching out of the corner of his eye as Erik shifts to refill his glass.

Erik has changed in some ways, but in other ways not nearly enough. He still has the same familiar creases in his brow as he leans forward to study the board. The lines have been etched deeper by ten years of imprisonment, but they still follow the same path. His eyes are the same as well—so changeable, yet always intense—although there's a new layer of crow's feet at the corners. Yet Charles forgot the thickness of his lashes. He also forgot the way Erik's mouth tightens with concentration, one corner turning downward as he considers his next move. Charles looks away, realizing he's been staring despite his intentions otherwise.

"Did they let you have a chessboard?" Charles asks, speaking in an attempt to break his own inner tension.

Erik huffs in dry amusement. "No," he says. "But I played many games in my head. Anything to pass the time. They did let me have a few books, magazines sometimes. But nothing current and no real news."

"How difficult for you," Charles says. Erik gives him a wry grin in response and Charles pushes down the impulse to be drawn in by it. He can't stand the intimacy of it. The two of them sharing a private joke like ten years and too many betrayals haven't passed between them.

Erik sits back in his seat, smiling again like either he hasn't registered or doesn't care about Charles' disapproval. Charles keeps his face blank, or as empty as he can manage. Erik sighs and his eyes drop down to the board, his cynical look falling away to reveal a deep tiredness. "It was difficult," he says. "I…missed you." 

"I can't say the same," Charles replies, his anger peaking again. Even more than shared humor, _vulnerability_ is more than he can stand from Erik right now.

"You honestly—never once?" Erik asks. His voice grows louder as his shoulders come up, his own anger returning to the surface to match Charles.

"Why would I?" Charles says. "The day I learned you were in prison was a _relief_. I never slept so well as the night I thought I would never have to look at you again."

"You're lying," Erik says. He moves restlessly like he means to get up, but then changes his mind. Instead he reaches out, stretching across the table between them to touch Charles' hand. Charles looks away, pointedly refusing to meet his gaze or acknowledge the imposition. He knows that ignoring the gesture will be more painful to Erik than any explicit rejection. Erik promptly proves his assumption by hitting the table in frustration, making the chess pieces jump. Erik stands, but instead of turning away from Charles, he comes around the table to get closer to him. He puts one hand on Charles' armrest and leans down, moving into Charles' line of vision like he's trying to force Charles to look at him.

Charles is expecting Erik to say something, to whisper something cutting and try to goad him into continuing their argument. Charles is preparing to ignore him in turn, steeling himself against reacting. The last thing he's expecting is for Erik to stay silent, for him to tilt his head instead and drop his eyes as he bends to close the gap between them.

Charles is so surprised he almost lets Erik kiss him. Because Charles forgot this too; the way Erik's mouth softens when he opens it and the demure line of his lashes against his cheeks. Charles' chest aches with the sudden memory of Erik eleven years ago in the same position over a different chessboard, his hand firm on Charles' chin as he tilted his head up into a kiss. The memory is very nearly enough, Charles almost lets it happen, but he startles at the last moment, turning his head away and saying, " _Don't_."

Erik's mouth brushes against Charles' chin instead, running over his beard in a slow scrape. Erik inhales and makes a small noise near Charles' ear that might be desperation. Charles brings his hand up, meaning to push him away, but he can't seem to complete the motion once he's touching Erik's shoulder. The warmth and the knotted tension under his hand is too distracting and Charles finds himself gripping Erik's bicep instead of shoving him backwards like he intended.

Erik's hand is back on top of Charles' on the table and his grip tightens in response. He lets out a long unsteady breath and Charles realizes for the first time that Erik is shaking. Erik presses closer, resting one knee on the seat next to him and burying his face against Charles' shoulder. Charles still can't bring himself to push him away, not even when Erik begins to kiss his neck.

"Ten years without this as well," Erik whispers, his voice muffled as he mouths his way down to Charles' collarbone. His thumb slips across Charles' wrist, shifting his grip and brushing by accident across the too-sensitive line of the tendons there. Charles hisses with an unwanted shiver and pulls back slightly in surprise.

"Please," Erik whispers, squeezing Charles' hand. "Please let me." Charles might have been able to pull away and leave then, if only it weren't for the note of weakness in Erik's voice. Charles does want this, despite himself and everything that's passed between them. He still wants Erik. But even more than that, he wants to find every tender spot he can and dig his fingers in and press until it _hurts._

A chess piece falls, tipped over by Erik's elbow and clattering to the floor loudly. An answering thump comes from the front of the plane. Charles pulls back to see Logan shifting in his seat, his eyes still closed but stirring like he's on the verge of waking.

"Stop," Charles whispers, finally finding the strength to push Erik away.

Erik sits back in his seat, but he has the nerve to look affronted at Charles' discretion. "No," Charles says, glancing back at Logan. "I mean—not here."

Erik raises one eyebrow in surprise, but Charles doesn't give him the opportunity to say something and ruin this now that he's decided. Charles gets up and walks back to the only private area of the plane, stumbling over the threshold of the tiny bathroom.

Erik hesitates only a moment before following him, pressing in against Charles as he closes the door. There's barely enough space for the two of them to fit together, and Erik immediately crowds up against Charles' front, pressing a bruising kiss against his mouth before Charles can stop him. Charles grabs Erik's shoulders, hanging on and scratching his nails over the rough fabric of his shirt. Erik's hands are roving up and down his sides and along his back, untucking Charles' shirt and running along his overheated skin underneath.

Erik's hands keep wandering, traveling down to palm over Charles' backside. He squeezes once and then pulls upward, urging Charles up to perch on the tiny sink. The faucet digs into Charles' hip painfully, but Erik is rubbing his cheek against Charles' face and neck again like he's completely overwhelmed and desperate. 

"This is new," Erik says, stroking his fingers over the line of Charles' jaw and tracing the edges of his beard. "I like it."

"I didn't grow it for _you_ ," Charles says. It wasn't intentional at all. It only seemed pointless to keep shaving when he never saw anyone except Hank and he no longer needed to convince skeptical parents of his clean-cut respectability.

Erik laughs and Charles is annoyed all over again by the sense of shared intimacy. "I didn't say you did."

Charles pulls the scarf from around Erik's neck in response and throws it to the floor before starting on his buttons. "You said you missed me?" he asks. "What exactly were you missing? While you were in prison, wasting away for ten years, what were you longing for?"

"If you had your powers you could see for yourself," Erik says.

Charles rips the last of his buttons open in response, nearly popping the last one off in his anger. Erik shrugs his shirt off of his shoulders, still looking amused even as he leans in to kiss Charles again. Charles turns his head away after a quick press of lips and Erik works his way down to his neck instead. "I thought about this," he says, pushing down the edges of Charles' undershirt and kissing the exposed skin. "About touching you, and the last time we were together. Sometimes I thought about holding you down, but more often about—missing this—missing feeling you. Under my hands and in my mind."

Charles ignores the reference to his telepathy and presses on Erik's shoulder, pushing him down. "Show me," he says.

Erik drops to his knees immediately. Charles' belt is already unbuckling itself by the time he reaches the floor and he yanks open Charles' pants in such a hurry that Charles nearly gets pulled right off the sink. Charles puts a hand out to steady himself and then gets his dick out, pushing down his underwear and wrapping one hand around the base. He strokes himself a few times while Erik watches, until Erik's mouth drops open with a soft needy sound and he leans in.

Charles was expecting a bit of teasing and preparation considering that Erik (presumably) hasn't sucked cock in ten years, but instead he goes straight to work, sliding Charles into his mouth and sucking hard.

Erik's hand comes up to wrap around Charles and tangle their fingers together, but Charles doesn’t let him take control. He puts his free hand on the back of Erik's head instead, gripping the curling ends at the back of his neck and guiding him into a quick pace. 

It feels good, if not quite as intense as Charles remembers. Hank's serum is effective, but better at restoring motor control than sensation. Charles can still feel the boundary line dividing his body, the breaking point between wholeness and injury. Everything below that level is muted and hazy. Touch comes through with sparks of static and noise, more heat and pressure than the wetness and subtle movements of tongue and lips Charles remembers.

Still, the sight of Erik on his knees is more than enough to bring him off, especially as he gets sloppy, moaning and nearly gagging himself toward the end. It hasn't been ten years for Charles, but it's still been a rather long time. He has to lean forward over Erik's head and brace himself on the door, nearly doubling over as he comes.

Erik swallows, trembling under Charles' hands. When Charles is finished, Erik pulls off and gasps for air, but stays on his knees, rubbing his forehead against Charles' hip. There's a rustle of fabric and Charles realizes that Erik's getting his pants open. Charles doesn't feel inclined to reciprocate so he stays where he is, cupping the back of Erik's neck as he jerks off into his hand.

Erik holds onto Charles' leg tightly and comes with the same harsh grunt Charles remembers. He gasps for a few moments before tucking himself away and tearing some toilet paper from the roll under the sink. Charles straightens himself out as well, buckling his belt while Erik picks up his shirt and tucks his scarf back around his neck.

"Good as you remembered?" Charles asks.

Erik kisses him in response, hands coming up to stroke through Charles' long hair and frame his face. "Almost," he says, one long finger tapping against Charles' temple.

Charles pushes him away and gets down so he can run the faucet and splash water on his face. He opens the door as soon as he's done, leaving Erik to take his own turn at the sink. 

Logan's seat is empty, which startles Charles at first. He's not embarrassed exactly—who knows what Logan has seen of him and Erik in the future? If he's really known them for decades, it's likely not a surprise. Charles just hopes Logan didn't say anything to Hank. He gets enough silent, hurt disapproval from him as it is.

The faucet turns off and Erik comes out of the bathroom, still buttoning his shirt. If he registers that Logan is gone, he doesn't seem to care. He sits down across from Charles and wipes his mouth, smiling in the self-satisfied way he always has when he thinks he's gotten his way. Charles ignores him, looking down at his hands as he resets the chessboard. They didn't finish their previous game, but enough of the pieces have been disturbed to ruin it.

"Sure you want to keep playing?" Erik asks.

Charles sets the last rook in place before he looks up at him. "You have the opening move again." 

"So I do," Erik says, sliding one of his pawns forward with a nod of his head. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mile High Club (Too Close For Comfort Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072616) by [helens78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78)




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